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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28526688">Watch Out, Whitethorn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriticize/pseuds/kriticize'>kriticize</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aelin being a seductress, Alternate Universe - Office, Basically stressed and jealous Rowan, But there's steam, Elevators, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, No Smut, Office AU, Pining, Rowan and Fenrys brotp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:07:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28526688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriticize/pseuds/kriticize</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The office animosity between Rowan Whitethorn and Aelin Galathynius started before they got accepted into Doranelle Publishing House, Inc. A year later, everyone still expects them to fight like cats. Rowan does, too. Until one day, he notices something amiss about his nemesis. She seems calmer and friendlier to him. The fiery Aelin has become soft. And frankly, it deeply bothered him.</p><p>When they are assigned to do a project together, Rowan thinks it's his chance to unravel the blonde's peculiar behavior. The only thing he doesn't anticipate is the reason behind it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien &amp; Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This one's just a short story I've been imagining quite a lot. Basically, it's Rowan simping for Aelin.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rowan rubbed his fingers across his mouth, thinking about the most peculiar thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       His mortal enemy at work, Aelin Galathynius, had been acting unlike her real self these past few weeks. Despite what everyone in the office believed, he actually didn’t consider the woman an enemy. Sure, they did get into banters easily, and at first, she annoyed the shit out of him. But that was the past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He and Aelin got accepted into the same publishing company at the same time. They also saw each other during the interview stages of their job applications. Their aversion to each other might have started then—both foolhardy and proud people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan was assigned to marketing, while Aelin entered the editorial field. Their divisions neighbored each other, their desks only several feet away. And that opened up more opportunities for unwanted encounters. They verbally fought, but never raged at each other to the point of cursing. She frustrated him, making him nearly pull out all his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He once loathed her hot-headedness and enthusiasm. Not that the latter was a bad thing, but it was something Rowan lacked when it came to his work. Maybe he was just envious of the woman. It definitely didn’t help that she was unbelievably gorgeous with her blonde hair and blue eyes. One time, when he gazed deep into those orbs, he caught a glimpse of a golden ring around her pupils, like halos. Such, such tantalizing eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       And good gods, the woman was tall. Rowan was fond of tall women because of his high stature. When Aelin wore her high heels (which was quite often), they were almost equal in height which permitted him to look straight into her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan liked that. A lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He didn’t even notice that he’d been staring from his desk until she sauntered up to him, cocking her head questioningly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “You look like you want to ravage me whole, Whitethorn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He flinched in embarrassment. “Of course I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       She hummed. “Correction. You look like you want to stick me into a fork, eat my limbs, and display my brain like a trophy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He grunted, attempting to return to his usual work expression. “Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I hope not.” She chuckled, flicking a few golden locks away from her shoulders. “Well, I better get back to my table. We ran out of ink there, so I borrowed a printer from marketing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Leaving without fighting and name-calling? Who was she?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       She had turned away from him when his hand unconsciously shot up, circling her wrist. Her gaze went to his face and then to the hand on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan felt his ears warm. He quickly let go. “Are you okay, Aelin? You don’t seem like your normal self, and that’s saying something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       The concern must’ve been evident on his face because her expression softened even more. Wild Aelin, who wasn’t afraid to speak out, was beautiful enough. But gentle Aelin? Rowan didn’t know if he could take it anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Watch out, Whitethorn,” she said, grinning. “Keep that up and I might think you’re worried about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       With those parting words, she walked back to her station. Rowan watched her swaying hips, entranced. She turned the most modest of clothes into a seductive piece of art. When he snapped out of it, he groaned and leaned his head forward until he hit the cold surface of his desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “What in the Wyrd are you doing, Whitethorn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Lorcan Salvaterre regarded him with judgment while organizing a bulky pad of paper. Rowan was accustomed to his co-workers’ broodiness. Lorcan was the silent type who preferred to do his job in peace. The man barely spoke with their workmates, only doing so when needed. He also didn’t seem interested in anything since his table was as clean as it was during his first day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Maybe the dark-haired girl in Aelin’s department was an exception.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan witnessed them talking in the pantry in hushed tones. Something Lorcan said made the girl giggle, which resulted in a tender smile on the man’s face. It was the first time Rowan saw such an expression on Lorcan’s face other than a frown or a scowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Just a headache,” he answered, pressing fingers to his temples. Aelin Galathynius was often the source of his recurring headaches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Better get rid of that headache, then,” Lorcan said. “The meeting’s gonna start at one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Give it a grace period of more or less thirty minutes. You know how Maeve doesn’t give a shit about time, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Unless there’s a deadline,” his co-worker amended. “By then, she’ll be a spider, ready to spin us inside  web coffins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He and Lorcan didn’t have anything common, as far as he knew. But in this, in a grave dislike for their boss, they were like brothers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Why was Galathynius here earlier, anyway? Saw you two talking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan shook his head, gathering the brown envelopes beside his computer. “She’s just being… I don’t know. Just normal Aelin things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I’m surprised you guys haven’t been called to the HR this month. That must be a new record.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He was surprised at the sudden shift in conversation. It probably was the longest talk he had with the guy, and it was veering into an uncomfortable territory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Uncomfortable territory meant Aelin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       There were times in the past year they’d been officemates wherein their vocal brawl had been noticed by other workmates, thus sending them to the HR department. Yrene Towers had often mediated their misunderstandings, and she was heavily amused by what she’d seen. Every time the two of them enter Yrene’s office, the woman’s mouth slowly twists into a knowing smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Perhaps there was more to Aelin’s weird behavior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>        Was it proper if he asked her about it? No. She’d probably thwack him in the head if he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       But this change in her troubled him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He missed her, in a way. If being nice to him would make her seem cold and distant, then he didn’t want it. He wanted the fire-breathing Aelin back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan predicted correctly. Maeve did arrive late to the meeting room, one arm carrying stacks of paper and the other held a bag of cupcakes. The sweet scent from the icing spiraled the closed space. He sneaked a peek at Aelin sitting on one end of the table. She had tilted her chin upward, smelling the air. He bit his lower lip to avoid laughing out loud. She looked like a Golden Retriever. The most adorable one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “What are you smiling at?” Lorcan whispered beside him. “Maeve’s been glaring at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He was too engrossed in Aelin and her hound-like tendencies that he didn’t even notice the meeting had started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Two representatives per department had been called forth. He and Lorcan were always the ones pulled out from marketing. Aelin, however, stood as a proxy for a workmate on maternity leave. It worked well on her favor because even though she was found to be a volatile person, she managed to capture the hearts of the office with her flirty attitude. Maybe even half of their floor was already wholly in love with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Maeve’s creamy pallor complemented the dark red lipstick she put on, making her seem more vicious than she already was. Everyone was terrified of her, except maybe for Aelin. The blonde never balked at anything Maeve instructed her to do. She was fearless—another characteristic that he envied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       And admired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Their boss pointed to the projector screen, explaining something that Rowan should be writing about, or at the very least, listening to. But for whatever reason, his head travelled into different spaces of time, or rather, travelled to thoughts of a certain blonde woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       When Lorcan knocked his leg using a knee, he snapped out of his reverie. Maeve had been talking about the company’s recent projects, specifically the projects of the month. Rowan tried to listen attentively, nodding when Maeve looked at his direction. Every now and then, his gaze would land on where Aelin sat. Once, she caught his stare and smiled. And because he was a complete idiot, he severed their connection. But his ears still burned at the unexpected eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “And finally, the most important topic in this meeting,” Maeve started. “We have been approached by the team of Mr. Dorian Havilliard, the chess genius.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Eyebrows were raised as they heard the name of somebody who’d been dubbed as the ‘next big thing in chess.’ From what Rowan learned from news articles, Dorian Havilliard was the son of a renowned chess master, who started teaching his son when the latter was merely three years old. It was only now that the younger Havilliard was getting all the attention he deserved. Rowan once saw the young man’s face in a magazine, being fawned over by college girls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Mr. Havilliard may still be in his early twenties, but it seems that he’s quite the writer,” their boss said. “Well, according to Chess Unlimited Monthly, his fondness for writing hatched from his love of reading. Other than chess books, our genius adores fantasy and adventure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “My kind of guy,” Aelin announced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan could feel the ice in his veins as she uttered those words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Then, it’s a good thing, Miss Galathynius, that you are to work with Mr. Havilliard during the span of editing his memoir. Along with Miss Faliq, Mr. Salvaterre, and Mr. Whitethorn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan straightened in his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Just like I said, Dorian is young, but he is also a genius of the sport. He has submitted his final draft, and you all might even think it riveting. It’s a fortunate opportunity for Doranelle Publishing to have been given this project. Other publishers would begrudge us for it. That’s what we aim for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       As Maeve smoothed out the details of the upcoming project, Rowan’s mind wandered again. Rather than feeling irritation because of the added workload, he was actually thrilled with the notion of working alongside Aelin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       When the meeting was adjourned, the tall blonde marched up to him as the others stood, preparing to leave. They were eye to eye, green to blue. Leaning forward, she whispered in his ear, “Looks like we’ll be working together, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rowan</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       The warmth of her breath against his skin made him shiver. And the sound of his first name on her lips…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       She pulled away, gave him a grin, and walked out the glass doors. He let her go despite his desire to pull her closer until the space between them no longer existed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Lorcan patted him on the back and said, “Sucks for you, Whitethorn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He knew exactly what he was talking about. Everyone expected him and Aelin to brawl like cats in a dumpster, and he expected it too, considering their less than stellar relationship history.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       But that wasn’t what he wanted. At all.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Next Monday, Rowan had slept in, resulting in a no exercise and no breakfast morning. He normally awoke two and a half hours before his time-in at the office. However, this morning was different. For the first time in a long while, Rowan failed to wake up on time despite the repeated bellowing of his alarm. He had also forgotten his egg sandwich as he rushed to his car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       The world must’ve been telling him what a shitty day it would be for him.</span>
</p>
<p>       That single thought circled his mind, urging him to drive more carefully. Which, ultimately, ended with him being three minutes late. When he arrived at his desk, breathing hard from all the running through the lobby and into the elevator, Lorcan passed him a curious glance. As long as Rowan could remember, he had never been late to anything. It was something he took pride in, something his parents instilled in him.</p>
<p>
  <span>       Thirty minutes before his morning break, his stomach growled in warning, promising retribution. He took off earlier than he should and headed toward the pantry, carrying a mug illustrated with stags. The room was at one end of the hall, with its dull gray paint and single potted plant beside the door. The marketing department frequently visited the tiny space, the editorial department on rare occasions. The creatives usually hung out over iced coffee at a café nearby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Thankfully, the company provided every floor with a pantry filled with a worker’s office necessities. Because, at the moment, it was coffee that Rowan desperately needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       But when he started setting up the coffee maker, the damned thing wouldn’t work. He tried turning it on and off, to no avail. Pulling out the plug did not work either. Remembering the vending machine by the cafeteria that worked only when hit, he raised his hand up, unafraid of destroying an expensive company possession.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I’m sure that’s how neanderthals acted thousands of years ago,” a crooning voice said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Behind him stood Aelin Galathynius, in all her stunning glory, with two paper cups in her hands. She wore her black turtleneck and high-waisted slacks—his favorite attire of hers. He hated the fact that he had a favorite in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I can’t make it work,” Rowan replied, brows furrowed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       It must be his unluckiest day. He could tolerate his own tardiness and the lack of breakfast, but Aelin witnessing him about to pound an inanimate object into smithereens while he looked haggard? Unacceptable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She lifted one shoulder. “It’s been broken since last week, though. From what I’ve heard, Maeve’s assistant, Luca, had done it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He glowered at the shiny surface of the coffee maker. “Then, they should’ve taken it away for fixing, or at the very least, placed a note on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She giggled. Aelin Galathynius </span>
  <em>
    <span>giggled</span>
  </em>
  <span> in front of him. It was such a rare sight that he continued to stare at her as if she spewed out fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “You must be having a bad day, huh,” she commented, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, you wouldn’t be my most treasured Whitethorn if it weren’t for those lines of frustration between your eyebrows.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       And this was one of his problems when it came to her. She flirted so naturally that Rowan couldn’t decipher if he were truly her most treasured one, or if she said that to every person she encountered. He bet against the former, though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He groaned, tipping his head back until it touched the cupboard. “I didn’t sleep well, Aelin. And now, I need coffee.” He glanced up at the lightbulb, an insect revolving around it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I like it when you do that,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Shifting his gaze toward her, he straightened. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Nothing.” She smiled, shaking her head gently. “Anyway, I’ve got an extra coffee right here. Do you want it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He scanned her face dubiously. “Did you poison it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t use poison. I’d aim for the heart using a dagger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan grunted, trying to hide the fact that he was giddy with the surprising turn of events. “Why do you even have two cups of coffee?” he asked, taking it. The cup was hot to the touch, so he alternated holding it between his hands. “I never pegged you for a caffeine addict.” She was, however, a sugar addict. That much, he was sure of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “They had a ‘buy one, take one’ promo,” she said nonchalantly. “And I cannot drink both, because I’ll get palpitations.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Well then, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “You’re most welcome.” She twisted away from him, her flowy hair swinging. “I’ll see you later, Rowan.” With that, she left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He opened the lid of the cup she gave him. Shockingly, it contained black coffee, which was the only kind he drank. Sipping, he moaned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Gods, is that how you sound during sex? Cannot be unheard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Looking at the ajar door, Rowan sighed. “Fenrys.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       His college friend grinned at him, a fiend ready to strike. “Haven’t seen you in a while, Rowan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Fenrys Moonbeam was his university roommate when his original one had graduated. The younger guy acted wild during their college years, philandering here and there. Once, Rowan caught Fenrys with three women under the covers. He couldn’t even fathom how they managed to squeeze themselves in a twin bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       The blond was also a witness to most of Rowan’s university life—the staying up late, the crammed homeworks, the failed exams, and the women. One time, Rowan was tangled in the sheets with a girl when Fenrys entered without a care, changed his clothes, waved at them, and went out. The girl never came back to their room ever again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Rowan considered Fenrys to be one of his closest friends. But to his aggravation, his friend teased him as much as Aelin did. In another world, those two would be the best of friends, watching the world burn while laughing. Unfortunately (or fortunately), Fenrys worked downstairs with the graphics team, giving him no opportunity to build a relationship with any of Rowan’s workmates. Though, the thought of them meeting nearly terrified him. They were a menace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “What are you doing up here, Fenrys?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       His friend’s curly hair was now cut into flattering waves on the sides of his face. In college, he grew it out, reaching his shoulder blades. Professional-looking Fenrys was a sight to behold. He seemed so noble and honest and angelic—the exact opposite of Fen’s true characteristics.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I went up here from my break and gave some files to that Lorcan guy you work with. You know, the one with the perpetual frown. He told me you’re here.” Fenrys chuckled. “As a matter of fact, he reminds me of you… Anyway, she gave you that, didn’t she?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Fenrys pointed to the cup with pursed lips. “Aelin Galathynius gave you that coffee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan’s eyes widened. “How in the Wyrd did you know that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Saw her at the café earlier with two drinks, and then seconds ago, she passed by me with only one cup remaining.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He stared at his friend incredulously. “Sometimes, you scare me with how observant you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I’m full of surprises, Rowan. You ought to know that by now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He ignored that. “Wait. She passed by you? How did you know what she looked like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       The blond held up his pinky. “First, for the last year, you’ve been complaining about her to me, and during that time, you pretty much described her well. Down to the size of her feet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “That’s an exaggeration,” Rowan interceded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Second, people in graphics know her. A blonde bombshell with blue eyes? What’s not to like, right? And before you tell me off, she’s beautiful as fuck, but I don’t do my friends’ girls.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “She’s not my girl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Mm-hmm.” He nodded. “She bought you a cup of coffee, and when I crossed paths with her earlier, she was smiling so bright that it nearly blinded me. So, I don’t know, Rowan. Pretty sure she wants to be your girl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He rolled his eyes. “She didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>buy</span>
  </em>
  <span> me coffee, boyo. She just had an extra from a ‘buy one, take one’ promo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Fenrys’s onyx eyes scrutinized him, judging him. “There was no such promo. I was just there in that coffee shop. If there was, I would’ve had six cups with me right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan scowled at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Believe me. She bought it for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the afternoon, they were scheduled to be introduced to the great Dorian Havilliard of the chess world. Maeve had ushered their little team for the project inside a more warm-looking meeting room. Unlike the one they often used, this was larger and filled with potted indoor plants. A flat screen television was mounted on the wall, playing one of Doranelle Publishing’s endorsement videos. Imported snacks were also placed neatly on the oval-shaped table, different kinds and colors of snacks. An impressive display, Rowan admitted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He was flipping through Havilliard’s final draft. The guy could write well; Maeve was right about that, but there was something lacking. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Most of the people in his department planned a marketing strategy for a book release using the mere gist of the story. Yet, he was an exception. Whenever he was given a specific task, he made sure he’d read the entire novel, even at its unedited state. He found the whole body of the novel essential to the thought process of the publishers, and not just a trivial part of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “You look sexy while you read,” Aelin commented, grinning smugly down at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Spare me your teasing, Galathynius,” he answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She plopped down on the seat beside him, obviously unsatisfied by his unenthusiastic reply. Perhaps she expected him to flirt back. Maybe he wanted that too, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Once Lorcan Salvaterre and Nesryn Faliq arrived, Maeve shortly followed with their esteemed guest. Dorian Havilliard, wearing a long trench coat that must’ve cost a fortune, entered the room with what Rowan assumed was his signature smile. The dark-haired man was accompanied by his agent, a man with cropped brown hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Mr. Havilliard and Mr. Westfall,” Maeve started. “This will be your main team during the entire book production. Mr. Salvaterre and Mr. Whitethorn will be handling the marketing scheme, as well as your social media presence before and after the publishing date. Miss Faliq and Miss Galathynius here will be in charge of the editing, from developmental edits to copy edits to proofreading.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Their boss pointed to each of them, while the chess genius drank them in. The moment his blue eyes landed on Aelin, his grin widened even more. Rowan stiffened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Thank you, Maeve,” Dorian said, absorbing his new environment. “Your office looks really comfortable and homey. I might even consider staying here for a long while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I’m glad to hear that, Dorian. Shall we start, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan saw the man peer at the blonde beside him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t look at her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he longed to shout. His jaw clenched automatically at the feral gaze in Dorian’s eyes, full of the desire to dominate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Let’s,” Dorian said with a growing smirk. “I’m sure it’ll be an unforgettable ride.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I might have added a new chapter earlier than scheduled because of my excitement hehe</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh no, I really cannot stick to my uploading schedule because I'm so excited to post this eep</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Three days had passed since they met the blue-eyed chess genius, and Rowan couldn’t take any of it anymore. He was so sick of all the romantic advances and smirking Dorian did around the office. Almost everyone fawned over him, and Rowan was pretty sure even godsdamned Lorcan softened around him. He supposed it wasn’t that difficult to like the guy. He was attractive, famous, and rich. Dorian’s status in the society was well-perceived, too. But every single thing the guy did irked him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       It had only struck Rowan how somebody had overthrown Aelin as the office’s most charming. And it seemed as if Dorian had charmed the woman, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       The thought did not sit well with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       In a matter of three days, Dorian attached himself to Aelin’s hip, going wherever she went. When the woman went out to grab something from her desk, the guy followed suit, insisting that he must be well-acquainted with the others since they’d all be helping him with his book. He did immerse himself in random conversations with some of their workmates. But out of their group, Dorian had singled her out, speaking with her even when not needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “You have that angry face on,” Lorcan said, typing something on his computer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I don’t have an angry face,” Rowan replied, crossing his arms on his chest. Lately, his co-worker had been quite vocal when it came to his observations. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “You do. It’s terrifying sometimes.” Lorcan grabbed his water tumbler and took a long gulp. They had been inside the meeting room the whole morning, discussing various paths for them to take during the publishing process. Rowan had created a slideshow to be presented to the whole team and to Maeve next week; Lorcan was editing and adding bits of information to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “You’re one to talk, Salvaterre,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Exactly. That is why I know what an angry face looks like.” The man dropped his gaze on the two people in front of them, hunched over stacks of bond paper. Aelin and Dorian had been speaking to each other in low voices. “And I think I know the reason, Whitethorn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Let’s just get back to work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan continued drafting another schedule for their project when Nesryn Faliq arrived with a basket of muffins.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “My fiancé dropped these off. He wanted me to share them with you,” she said, blushing a bit at the ‘fiancé.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “When’s the big wedding, Nesryn?” Aelin asked from her seat, visibly smelling the sweet aroma in the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Next month,” the black-haired woman answered, beaming. “I’ll be sending you the invitation soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Aelin waved her hand. “Oh, you don’t need to invite me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Don’t be silly, Ae. Without you, I wouldn’t have even met Sartaq.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I didn’t do anything,” she countered. “I merely suggested his bakery to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Hence, our chance encounter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Well, aren’t you quite the matchmaker, Miss Galathynius?” Dorian Havilliard drawled, eliciting a scoff from Rowan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Aelin must’ve heard him because she looked at him curiously before returning her attention to the man beside her. “I’m not sure about that. Although, I did intentionally set up my cousin, Aedion, and my friend, Lysandra. They’re expecting their first child in two months.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan heard something about that. Lysandra was the one from the editorial department that was on maternity leave, and she and her husband were brought together by the magical powers of one Aelin Galathynius. He was surprised, however, to know that the Aedion guy was her cousin. Whenever the blond man came to visit Lysandra, Rowan was always astonished at how Aelin and Aedion looked alike. They were the sides of the same coin. So, hearing that he was actually her cousin and not her brother intrigued him. He still had much to learn about the woman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Why not find a matchmaker for yourself?” Dorian questioned, elbowing Aelin in a gentle manner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Oh, I’d rather take matters into my own hands.” She shrugged. “I’m more than capable of doing so. I don’t need anyone else’s ministrations.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan gaped at her in awe. He was already aware of her capacities, and those weren’t up for discussion. Ever since he met her, she had never been one to lean on somebody else. If there was distress at work, she handled it with ease, all while looking regal. She held herself up, definitely not one to run away. Furthermore, she didn’t decline whenever aid was offered to her. She accepted it when she saw fit, or when she was certain she could not do it alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       And that was strength in itself, Rowan realized. The capability to be strong and independent despite it all, and still not brush aside any assistance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Well then, care for a muffin, my fair lady?” Dorian grabbed one from Nesryn’s basket in the middle of the table and presented it to Aelin with a theatrical gesture.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       The woman stared at the yellow muffin and bit her lip, hesitation crossing her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “She likes the chocolate ones,” Rowan announced abruptly, as if it were a knee jerk reaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Everyone’s eyes were on him, surprised and puzzled. Aelin even more so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       His ears burned and his face was in flames. Out of all the embarrassing things to utter out, his mouth chose that one. Disregarding everyone’s reaction to his words, he focused on the schedule before him, praying to the gods that his beet red face didn’t give out anything. But he highly doubted it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone left for lunch except for him and Aelin. During the rest of the morning, he had been in a sour mood because of Dorian and Aelin’s ragtag team of flirting and touching each other on the arm. The blonde only said a few words to Rowan the entire half of the day, and since they were alone in the meeting room, he desired to hear her voice again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “What do you think of our boy Dorian?” he asked, twirling a pen between his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She cocked her head to one side, golden locks sliding against her shoulder. “He’s a great writer, I suppose. Uses too much purple prose in some of the paragraphs, but I’d say all is good. We’re still in the first level of editing, anyway. And he seems like a good person, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Soft on the eyes as well, don’t you think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Rowan Whitethorn,” she started. “What is this? Are you insinuating your...sexual preference?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He returned a flat look, one that made her giggle. Gods, he loved that sound. “I can appreciate other people’s appearances, Galathynius. I have eyes, you know.” She gave him a light chuckle again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Aren’t you going out for lunch?” she questioned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He shook his head as he faced his laptop again. “I brought lunch. I’ll eat in a little while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Aelin pushed away from her seat, making the office chair twirl. With Rowan as her destination, she strolled toward him with her hands behind her back. Her eyes glowed with mischievous intent as they stared at each other. Rowan’s blood boiled at the look of determination and longing in her beautiful face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She halted before his right side, waiting until he turned to glance at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He whirled his rotating chair around, facing her. “Do you need something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Within a second, Aelin had leaned down, only several inches away from his mouth. Her arms clutched his arm rest; she had caged him in. A heated emotion spurred from deep within him, stirring something from the south of his body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan was turned on. Thoroughly so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Maybe we could eat out for lunch,” she whispered. “I didn’t bring my own food. Accompany me at the cafeteria or somewhere else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       His breath was laborious by now, and the speed of his heartbeat rivaled that of a trained runner. “Or we can just eat here,” he mumbled back. “I have enough food for two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       The smile that grew on her face was so dazzling and hypnotizing that Rowan’s hands tightened into fists.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I’d like that,” she answered, a soft flush on her cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Unlike Dorian’s sapphire blue eyes, Aelin’s were more turquoise—color of the great sea. A sea Rowan wanted to swim in, to drown in, and to emerge from, completely changed. He could already feel that change as their eyes connected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He immediately snapped out of his trance and said,” Just let me fix my things first before I get the food from my table.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She nodded but didn’t make a move of removing her arms from the chair. “Oh. Your necktie is slightly skewed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       To his horror (or utter delight), she leaned in closer and placed her hands around the knot of his necktie, below his neck. He was incredibly baffled by the strange and sudden transformation of her general disposition. But this, this closeness, was unexpected and far from what he had in mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She fixed his tie longer than the time it should’ve taken her. Meanwhile, Rowan sat rigidly, nervously swallowing. When he saw Aelin take a peek at his mouth, he stopped breathing altogether.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Her right hand shifted from the knot to his chest, and she could probably feel his unsteady heart. Her other hand slid to his shoulder. And he wanted to,</span>
  <em>
    <span> really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted to pull her in until she settled above him where they could feel each other’s warmth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Still, he couldn’t help but think that this was normal for her. She might even have a problem when it came to personal boundaries, because she acted the same way toward Dorian. In retrospect, how she acted with Rowan at the moment was comparably nothing compared to her and Dorian.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She was just playing him. He was such an idiot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Don’t touch me like that,” he gruffly said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Aelin recoiled in an instant, withdrawing her hands and holding them to her chest. Hurt and shame flashed in her face. “Did-Did I do something wrong, Rowan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He briefly closed his eyes at the sound of his name on her lips. Figuring that everything was already awkward, he said, “Mind if I take a rain check on that lunch? I have something to attend to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Without waiting for her reply, he grabbed his phone and flew out of the room as fast as he could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He had no idea where to go, but he knew he couldn’t stay in that place with her. Not after saying those things that wounded her, no matter the level of intensity. He just couldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan tramped the long and wide corridor, the gray carpet softening the sound of his footfalls. He turned at the end, stopped before the elevators, and waited impatiently for it to land on his floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He noticed his reflection in the closed doors of the elevator. Disheveled silver hair and expression on the imploding edge. Expect Aelin to always be the reason why.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       A ‘ding’ sound indicated the elevator cab’s arrival. He stepped in, but before he could even press on a button, a hand shot in, halting the doors. It was Aelin, breathing heavily. She pushed the hair away from her face and calmly entered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She clicked on the ground floor button as silence and tension reigned. The cab started descending.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Okay, Whitethorn. What’s your problem?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Nothing,” he bit out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Suddenly, she slammed her hand on the emergency stop button and faced him, eyes with no trace of humor. She was furious. However, it wasn’t directed at him, he realized. She was furious with herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Did I do wrong by you for you to run away like that?” Her hands were curled into fists at her side. “I’m sorry that I touched you without permission. Really sor—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Aelin, stop.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t your touching that I hated; it was the fact that you touched me like you touched Dorian Havilliard. As if it were natural to you. As if I weren’t…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Watch out, Whitethorn,” she mumbled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re jealous of Dorian.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan clenched his teeth, uncertain of what to retort. He should deny it, but he couldn’t utter the words needed. Because she hit the bull’s eye. He was jealous. He was so jealous that he retaliated by raising his voice at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       A trickle of apprehension crossed her face. “You are jealous,” she said, astounded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “You can’t treat me like one of your playthings, Aelin,” he replied harshly. “I’m not like everyone else. So, don’t touch and tease me like I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Is that why you hate me so much, Rowan?” she whispered feebly. “Because I’m a flirt?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He looked at her, appalled. “I don’t hate you. I never did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan thought she was stunned into silence, but she yelled, “Then, what’s the problem, you bastard!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “There she is,” he muttered. “There’s the Aelin I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “What are you talking about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I told you last week that you aren’t acting like yourself.” When she seemed confused, he continued. “You’re being so nice to me, and it’s confusing. And then you’re so touchy as well. But I don’t want that. I don’t want you treating me like you do with everyone else!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “So, what do you want, Rowan?” she shouted back, neck flushing with anger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       They were in a confined space, fighting like they used to. Rowan was very much infuriated at their current situation. But there was something else. Something else he felt as he watched her gesture around, flailing her arms so strongly that her blazer slipped off one shoulder. His gaze focused on the shocking show of smooth skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Unable to quench his want, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer. She audibly gasped, resting her palms on his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “What I want...What I want is you,” he murmured, a couple of inches from her lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He didn’t know which of them moved first, but none of that mattered because they were kissing. One of Rowan’s hands wandered inside her blazer and landed on the small of her back. He led her to a corner of the elevator while his mouth slipped against hers. Her hands slid to his mess of a hair, tugging gently. A growl on the back of his throat escaped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She tasted so sweet, like those chocolate bars she hid under her desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He hovered over her, thoroughly pleased that she exchanged those high heels for flats. When she wore high heels and they were almost the same height, it excited him. But at her normal height, his skin thrummed with need and satisfaction. It was as if he was permitted to stretch down and hold her tenderly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Their bodies touched at certain points, but Rowan still felt it inadequate. Leaning down, his arms flexed under her as he lifted her up, hooking her legs on his hips. Aelin made a sound that nearly threw him off the edge. A shudder rocked its way down his body because she started moving her hips, hitting the spot where he was hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Gods, Aelin,” he breathed out as they broke the kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I’m not yet done,” she mumbled against his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She was a genius at this, Rowan thought. She deepened the kiss, coaxing Rowan’s mouth open. Her tongue darted inside, and a shot of pure lust went through his system. He moaned again, and that seemed to stoke her fire because she grinded even harder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She’d be the death of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Ahem,” a distorted voice said. “This is an elevator. Please bring your uh, affairs outside. You have been the third couple this week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan and Aelin, both breathing heavily, glanced at each other and then at the speaker below the series of buttons on the wall. The surveillance camera had caught them eating each other’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Gods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He muttered an apology, settling Aelin down on her feet. She adjusted her blazer and straightened her pants. He pressed the ground floor button again, and the cab continued its descent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       In the reflective wall of the elevator, he saw Aelin lick her lips, which urged him to bite his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Several seconds passed before she started laughing, clutching her stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “It’s the very first time I’ve done that,” she explained, grinning at him widely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Amusement touched her face, but in those stunning eyes, hunger and yearning prevailed. Rowan was dead sure his own eyes mirrored hers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He was insatiable when it came to Aelin Galathynius.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Deafening silence descended upon them after those minutes of bewitching passion. Now, to an observer’s eye, they appeared their usual selves, as if they weren’t just in a liplock. As if Rowan couldn’t taste Aelin as he trailed his tongue along his bottom lip. As if his hands did not long for her warmth and softness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Like her, it was the very first time he did something like that—make-out with somebody in an elevator. The fact that it was with her? It unmade him, and then pieced him back together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Because of his frustration during their earlier confrontation, he had gone straight to the elevator, indecisive of where he was running off to. She had caught up to him, and then everything else had happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       They currently stood side by side, listening to the gentle singing voice that blared through the speakers. Rowan was too preoccupied that he hadn’t even noticed the existence of said elevator music until now. Their ride was so painfully slow that he started tapping his leather shoe on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       And as if their situation was not awkward enough, their stomachs growled simultaneously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Your stomach sounded like a bird squawking for worms.” Aelin snorted as soon as the words left her mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Yours sounded like a dragon roaring for red meat,” he teased back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “You say that as if you are insulted I had my mouth on you,” she said, crossing her arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He gaped at her. He was far from insulted. If anything, he was elated. But before he could even disprove what she said, a sound notified their arrival on the third floor. Two women in long sleeves and office skirts stepped in, taking no notice of Rowan and Aelin’s rumpled clothing and flushed faces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       The two of them reached the ground floor level, both unsure of where they were headed to. Aelin faced him and said, “How about that lunch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan glanced at his wristwatch. Only twenty minutes remained for their break, and obviously, with the way their stomachs complained, they were hungry for food. There was also no way he’d skip a meal. Good thing he had folded bills inside his pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Might as well,” he replied, clearing his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Asking her about what had transpired between them terrified him. If she said it was nothing, it’d possibly be the worst day of his entire life. And what if she said it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What was next for them?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He wasn’t inexperienced when it came to relationships and such, and yet, when he thought of Aelin, every decision was bad and every move was wrong. He didn’t want to fuck anything up with her. The focus of his affections had always been this unreadable, beautiful thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Should he clarify things between them now? Was there even a thing in the first place?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He groaned, seizing her attention. Her brows were raised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Is that your inner turmoil making a sound, Whitethorn?” she teased.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He ignored her and positioned himself to her left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       The company cafeteria, located west of the building’s lobby, could cater a hundred people. Rows of tables and chairs fastened to the tiles filled the area. The farthest side of the room was allocated for the kitchen and the food display. When Rowan first started working at Doranelle Publishing, he hated the food. It was too greasy and unhealthy for his taste. Thus, he decided to bring his own lunch from then on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Due to his hectic schedule, he’d often prepare his meals during Sundays and stack the lunch boxes inside the refrigerator. The same couldn’t be said for Aelin because he noticed that she normally ate out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Do you always eat here?” he inquired as they picked up gray trays with washed out color. It could've been brown once. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Sometimes,” she replied. “I can’t cook. I pretty much burn everything into a crisp. So, it’s either the cafeteria or some restaurant outside. Do you cook your own food?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Perfect.” She grinned at him, transforming her face into a marvel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       If he could pocket that smile for safekeeping, he would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Few employees remained in the cafeteria, still eating and chatting with each other. Because they were late, their food options were limited to subs, soggy wraps, and dried-looking pizzas. Rowan opted for a beef sub with onions. Aelin bought the last of a macaroni and cheese in an aluminum pan. And of course, she bought three candy bars for dessert. When he looked pointedly at the bars she had grabbed, she gently placed one back into its original container and smiled sheepishly at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “You consume alarming amounts of sugar,” he commented.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “To balance the sourness I see in your handsome face,” she responded quickly. The reply must’ve come out of her mouth incorrectly, because her ears tinged red.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       So, she thought he was handsome? Interesting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       They were nearing the counter when he slipped a hand in his pocket for the money. He twisted toward her to say he’d be paying, but all thoughts were sucked out of his mind because Aelin had one hand inside her top, between her chest. She was digging for something, eyes narrowed in concentration.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She caught Rowan staring once she lifted her head. A sweet, pink flush covered her face. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, removing her hand. “I left my wallet up there, and I put my extra money inside my...uh, my bra.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       No thoughts. Head empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Rowan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He snapped out of his mortifying zoning out when she wiggled fingers in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Right,” he said, coughing to hide his humiliation. “I insist on paying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll pay for mine. Ask me out on a date, and maybe I’ll let you pay then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He didn’t know what to answer, so he mumbled, “Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       After choosing a rather secluded table, they proceeded to eat in silence. Rowan dreaded every noise not made by their mouths. He winced at the crumpling of his sandwich paper. His frown deepened at every scraping of fork along the aluminum foil.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “What do we have here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan glanced up to see Fenrys Moonbeam in a dark suit, sporting a teasing smirk. His friend stood at the end of their rectangular table with crossed arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “My dear friend, Rowan,” the blond guy drawled. “Fancy seeing you here in this place you rarely visit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He sighed in surrender. “I don’t like the food here that much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Fenrys’s eyes slid to Aelin. “Yeah. It’s definitely not the food you like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan ignored the jab and gestured to both of them. “Aelin, this is—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       A dramatic gasp left Fenrys’s mouth before he perched on the seat beside Aelin. He held out one hand. “Fenrys Moonbeam. Graphic artist and Rowan Whitethorn’s irresistible best friend from college.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I’m Aelin Galathynius,” she said, shaking Fen’s hand. Her eyebrows swooped up in Rowan's direction. “You have a best friend? I pretty much assumed you didn’t because of you frowning at everything, breathing or not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Fenrys gasped again. “A girl who teases Rowan is a girl after my own heart.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       They were grinning smugly at each other, and Rowan was seeing his version of hell. He thought he’d never see the day Fenrys and Aelin would meet. Apparently, he was wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “What was he like in college?” She asked, nudging a macaroni.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Let me think.” Fenrys pretended to be deep in thought. “Nothing changed. He’s still the same old bastard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Really? You mean that frown’s always been there?” She tossed him a wink. His blood boiled. Not in anger, but in a more spark-inducing feeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Uh-huh. The ladies loved his brooding personality. A girl in my class once called him ‘the handsome and tortured soul in denim.’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Aelin snorted, covering her mouth with a hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “That’s not true,” Rowan interceded. “Don’t believe him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I only speak the truth.” His friend fully faced Aelin. “One time, I hooked up with a girl who was secretly lusting after him, and then when I got to the dormitory room, the girl had Rowan under him. And she was naked. He was clutching his blanket in terror.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan closed his eyes at the horrible memory. Fenrys had been hooking up with a girl named Remelle during their third year. Every time Rowan was around, she’d do her best to flirt with him and touch him unnecessarily. He never returned the attention, and all he did was avoid her every time. He also didn’t say anything to Fenrys, afraid of the fight that would possibly come. They never got into a fight before, but Fen seemed so fond of the blonde college girl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       It was the night after Rowan’s final exam. He had trudged into their dorm room, expecting to fall into his comfortable mattress. The exam had absorbed every bit of his energy, so he expected to rest for a while before watching his favorite television series. But when he had opened the door, his backpack slipped down his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Remelle lounged on his bed, buck ass naked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He had panicked, pulled an extra blanket from his cabinet, and threw it over her. Instead of remaining covered, Remelle took hold of Rowan’s wrists and pulled him into the bed with her. At that moment, Fenrys arrived with a bucket of fried chicken and cans of beer. Rowan had never been more mortified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Aelin laughed as Fenrys rehashed the story to her—how Rowan had thrown a pillow into Remelle’s face, making her tumble into the ground. It wasn’t his finest moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Gods, Rowan.” Fen wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “What would’ve you done if I didn’t come on time? I had never seen a man more terrified of a naked body.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       His face warmed. “I would’ve pushed her away, but I was so shocked that I didn’t know what to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He peeked at Aelin, expecting her to still have that amused expression on, but she was somber.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Knowing you hit her face with a pillow is comical and all that, but Rowan, isn’t that assault? That’s-That’s terrible. She’s terrible.” She scowled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       The need to reassure her nearly toppled him off his chair. “I’m all right, Aelin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Still, that was wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan felt his face soften. Every time Fenrys recounted the unfortunate story to their friends, they always laughed. Some even ridiculed him for not taking advantage of the opportunity. It was the first time somebody was actually concerned about him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Let’s just hope she learned from all that embarrassment. Haven’t heard any news about her, though,” Fenrys said. “Anyway, what really brings you here, Rowan? I know you bring your own food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Fenrys would never live it down if Rowan told him the events inside the elevator. The latter fled from the recurring object of his thoughts, and yet, he ended up on the same lunch table with her. After ravishing her mouth like a man without water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Just getting lunch,” he answered. “I wanted a change of environment. A greasy one, at that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Aelin giggled, touching her bottom lip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He swallowed at the sight. How was it possible that he wanted to kiss her again in front of Fenrys and all of the world to see?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       There was only one answer to that. She was slowly becoming his addiction.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rowan was back at his desk once again, since the editors were having a meeting in the room they were supposed to be working in. Lorcan sat several tables away, typing heavily on his keyboard. The sound most likely irritated everyone near him. Unfortunately, they were terrified of Lorcan’s dark demeanor and huge size. He could possibly crush a person’s head like a grape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Fifteen minutes remained until the end of the work day. Friday was a great reprieve for Rowan, because he had never felt a more stressful week like the one that passed by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He stretched his fingers and back, making an alarming crick. Working in an office eight hours a day and five times a week could take a toll on a person’s physical and mental health, which was why he exercised regularly. Sadly, it didn’t change the fact that he was exhausted every evening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Muffled laughter rumbled through the glass of the meeting room. The editing department seemed to have adjourned their meeting. However, most of them stayed on their seats while chatting animatedly. He could see Aelin speaking to Nesryn and the dark-haired Elide at one end of the table. After lunch, he had planned to talk to her privately. Their secret glances at each other were enough to bring Rowan into a frenzy. Now, he was itching to confront her, to ask what exactly had transpired between them. Of course, he was aware of them kissing. He wanted it, too. But what did it mean?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He never had the opportunity earlier because of Fenrys’s blabbering. His friend had followed him and Aelin to their floor, engaging the latter in a conversation about Rowan’s most embarrassing moments. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Fenrys was out sabotaging any chances he had with Aelin. He knew better, though. He knew his friend as well. Fenrys was beyond delighted every time he revealed Rowan’s idiotic life events. Aelin reveled in Fen’s stories, guffawing at Rowan’s expense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Striking a conversation with her after work hours was what he had planned next, but she was rather occupied. Aelin and her workmates didn’t seem like they were leaving the room anytime soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He stretched his arms once again and made a sharp exhale. It was time to go home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Lorcan eyed him funnily. “You’re leaving early?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I’m leaving on time,” Rowan replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       His officemate grunted in response. “That’s new. You often work overtime on a friday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “It’s been a long week. Let me enjoy my weekend, Salvaterre.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan grabbed his leather satchel after organizing envelopes full of papers and colorful sticky notes with specific instructions written on them. He hadn’t finished everything, since the deadline was still a month away. He never procrastinated, and neither was he an early finisher. Somewhere in the middle, definitely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Bidding Lorcan goodbye, he dragged his gaze to the meeting room, and for a moment, he thought he saw Aelin looking back at him. But he blinked and she was grinning at something Elide said, attention away from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He passed through several empty desks while some co-workers greeted him. He was nowhere near Mr. Congeniality and the most he could offer was a smile. Nevertheless, he considered them his kin. After all, they were slaves under the iron fist of capitalists and the unfair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He had punched the down button of the elevator when his legs started feeling restless, shifting the weight from one to another. The cab was still at the topmost floor, and by the time it arrived on his level, it would surely be full of employees running for their homes. He would have to wait for a long while. But doing so, staring at the closed elevator doors, made certain memories pop into his head—a memory of a certain kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Loosening his tie, he huffed a breath. It was his choice to leave earlier than expected. Why did it feel like a wrong decision, though?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Fuck it,” he muttered to no one in particular as he twisted around. It didn’t matter if Lorcan raised judging eyebrows at him; he was still going to talk to Aelin right now. No matter the result of the conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He had no idea what he’d say. He would have to give her an impromptu speech, then. If he had to wait for an hour outside that meeting room, he would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He had nearly reached the corner of the elevator hallway when he heard a shout.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Aelin!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Dorian?” the voice that sounded like Aelin’s said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan pressed himself against the cream-colored wall and beside a square column. The column could not, most likely, hide his large frame. He had hidden along the hallway perpendicular to where Aelin and Dorian were. However, if they were to turn around the corner, they would see him, eavesdropping like a gossiper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Where did you go after the meeting?” Dorian asked, breathing laboriously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Oh, uh, nowhere. I’m just looking for...something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Short seconds followed before Dorian spoke again. “I wanted to ask you something, but you hurriedly dashed out of the room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Sorry,” she replied. “What is it that you wanted to say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Well, I know it’s been only a few days, and this might hinder us from doing our jobs properly in the long run. But, I would love it if—“ The guy cleared his throat. “What I’m trying to say is, will you go on a date with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan’s eyes widened at the words Dorian spoke as his veins turned ice cold. His heart beat strongly at the anticipation of the blonde’s reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>       Say no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he repeated in his mind, again and again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Dorian,” she started. “Shall we move this conversation to a more private area?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Fucking Monday,” Rowan growled inside his car, beeping at some idiot who didn’t know how to use the pedestrian lane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Unlike last week, preparing for work ran smoothly for him this morning. He woke up at the first sound of his alarm, he did a thirty-minute workout, and he did not forget his breakfast. So, no. His sullen mood had nothing to do with any of those. It was, however, because of Friday afternoon’s spectacle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan had waited until Aelin and Dorian’s footsteps couldn’t be heard anymore before he emerged from his tiny hiding space. When he was sure they wouldn’t come back and find him hunching his big frame, he had gone back in front of the elevator. He was vaguely aware of it, two floors left before it reached him. All his mind could conjure up was a vision of Aelin sitting across Dorian in an expensive restaurant with candles and wine on a silk-covered table. Aelin would laugh at something Havilliard had said, sending him coy glances that promised pleasure in every sense of the word. Dorian would gladly take her up on her offer as they were two beings unapologetic for their desires. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He had clearly seen it in his head, and he loathed the imagery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Also, unlike what he had said to Lorcan before he went home, he did not enjoy his weekend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       From Friday night to Sunday night, Rowan did nothing but lounge on his couch and binge watch three series. The bags under his eyes proved how late he stayed up. On Saturday afternoon, Fenrys knocked on his door, bearing six cans of beer and snacks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I texted you,” Fenrys had said. “But you didn’t answer. I thought maybe he’s banging some random chick. And then I thought, nah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       His friend’s babbling had only worsened his headache. However, it was hilarious how the beer had seemed to lessen the throbbing pain in his temples. Pretty sure it had something to do with the status of his sobriety, though. It also didn’t help that Fenrys had kept pestering him about Aelin, the ‘blonde girl Rowan was fucking head over heels in love with.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       It was bad enough that his friend knew of his fondness for her, but for Fen to learn of Aelin and Dorian’s date? Gods. The curly blond would probably bring him to strip club after strip club only to forget. Besides, Rowan could move on all by his lonesome, even if there weren’t a thing to move on from in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He pressed on his car horn again, telling the vehicle in front of him that they did a poor job of overtaking him. “Godsdamned people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan arrived at the office forty minutes earlier, so he took his time walking to his desk. The guards by the door greeted him enthusiastically, to which he replied with a severe lack of excitement for the day. It was normal for him, anyway. He dragged his satchel and trudged along the carpeted floor slowly, as if he hated being a corporate slave. The elevators blared soft jazz music that was supposed to calm him down or lift his spirits up. Sadly, it had the opposite effect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       The cab stopped on the third floor, and when it opened, a black-haired man stood with a brown-haired one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Mr. Whitethorn!” Dorian addressed him as they stepped in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Mr. Havilliard and Mr. Westfall.” He nodded to the both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Chaol Westfall was a fixture in their office alongside Dorian, making sure his client’s needs were met and the book production ran smoothly. Unlike the chess genius, Westfall seemed like a reserved person. He only talked when necessary, and that was what Rowan liked about him. Moreover, the agent chastised Dorian for his annoying habits. Their dynamic felt weird and unprofessional to Rowan, but they were childhood friends, as it turned out. So, their personal relationship might have been beneficial to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “You’re early today,” Dorian commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan spared the guy a glance. He could still hear his voice as he asked Aelin out. “No traffic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Ah. Well, Chaol here dragged me here very early to visit somebody on the third floor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Dorian,” Chaol said with a hint of warning in his tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Human Resources was on the third floor. What could they have been doing?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan expected awkward silence between the three of them. He would easily succumb to it, but Havilliard had to open his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “What do you think about Miss Galathynius, Mr. Whitethorn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       His head snapped to the left, raising his eyebrows. For a second, he felt a burst of intense irritation. Dorian smiled at him with a calm and collected expression, while taunting brewed underneath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Aelin?” He faced the reflective doors again. Chaol looked as if he wanted to jump out of the cab in that instant, only to avoid the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Yes. From what I have gathered, the two of you have been working together for a while now, haven’t you? Miss Galathynius said so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He cleared his throat and clutched his bag tighter. Gods. He needed three cups of black coffee for this. “She and I started at the same time, so yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “And what can you say about her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Aelin…” He scoffed. “I don’t know if you’ve gathered this as well, but we’re known enemies around here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Dorian’s dark eyebrows swooped up. “Do tell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Was Dorian fishing for information about her because of their date? Oh, Rowan would oblige him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “She confronts people because of the most shallow of things. She’s brazen and a hot-headed that wouldn’t hesitate to call you out if you’ve done something she didn’t appreciate. When she wants something, she goes for it. And nothing—</span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>—will stop her, not even you begging and crying on your knees. She easily complains about things that don’t really matter. She has an unhealthy obsession with sweets. Also, that woman’s vanity is off the charts. Maybe she’d even expect you to build a shrine for her. I don’t know how it’s possible, but she could incite headaches from people around her. In short, she’s a menace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He couldn’t stop the words flowing from his mouth, because it was the whole truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “But... she’s the most hardworking and passionate person I’ve ever met. Aelin adores her job and the people in this company. In return, they adore her, too. She’s a warm person who rarely shares anything about her personal life, and yet, it doesn’t feel as if she’s barricading herself from every person wanting to reach her. She’s just searching for the right people, her right people. And she deserves every bit of happiness life has to offer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I actually pity her for spending some of her office hours with a bastard like me. So, Dorian, when you find yourself blessed to be with somebody as genuine as her, do better. Or else she might kick you in the throat. I’ve heard she took karate lessons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       The elevator landed on their floor the moment Rowan finished his little speech. He left Dorian and Chaol, open-mouthed at his outburst. His long legs paced the hallway with a hurried fervor; He didn’t want those two to catch up to him. He had already embarrassed himself in front of them. A second round would be beyond shameful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Nevertheless, he didn’t regret a single thing he said. And if that made Dorian desire Aelin more, then fine. He would just have to bury all the emotions she had brought forth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan placed his bag on top of his desk with a loud thump. Two of his co-workers, the usual early birds, glanced at him curiously, and then returned to what they were doing before. He put on his earbuds and played classical music on his phone. Five new messages appeared on his email account—three from job offers and two were food promotions. When he got accepted into Doranelle Publishing, he swore he would quit after six months and after being so fed up with the workload that he obviously did not enjoy. He had always been good with knowing the market’s needs and wants and applying those into what was being advertised. Despite that, a publishing career was the farthest thing from his mind. His application wasn’t serious at all, but when he was called in for an interview, he decided to go. And there he met Aelin with her amusing snark and sharp tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He had found her pretentious and unbelievable. Surely no person would be looking forward to such a job, right? But he was wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I am not just here to fulfill my dream, mister. I am here to fulfill others’, too,” she had said to him, her face in a scowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       For a newly graduated person, she had seemed so exuberant starting her first job. That was definitely not the case for Rowan. But when he had received a job offer from the company, he accepted it in an instant, to his own surprise. Maybe the appeal of that specific career got to him, or maybe it was because of the young woman who almost burned him with her words and her spiteful excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       During his first month, he was beyond exhausted, and he had considered quitting at that early stage. Fortunately, his daily banters with Aelin had brought him something to look forward to. She immensely annoyed him, yes. But behind that was the elation of accepting a challenge—the thrill of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       When he finished his first project under a debut author, he couldn’t believe the sense of satisfaction crashing through him. She was right, he had thought. Seeing somebody’s dreams come true did give him feelings of pride. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Moreover, seeing Aelin’s teary eyes and overjoyed smile were a sight to behold. Rowan had decided then to stay just to see more of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Hey, Whitethorn.” A slender hand slapped down on his desk, making him jump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Aelin grinned down at him, glad to have caught him off guard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “What do you want?” He paused the song playing and pulled his earbuds out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       A green painted fingernail tapped the lid of a coffee cup. “‘Buy one, take one’ again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan busied himself with his phone, not looking at her. “I had one already. Just give it to another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       A pause. “I was told this is your favorite. Take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He heard the frown in her voice, so he gazed up at her. Her groomed eyebrows were furrowed together, and her nose was scrunched. His hand clutched the chair armrest tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I don’t want it, Aelin,” he replied coldly. “Don’t be insistent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Hurt flashed in her face. “Woke up at the wrong side of the bed, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Without answering her, he shifted his attention to his computer and turned it on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “You know, Rowan,” she began. “Just when I thought we’re all right, you go ahead and prove me wrong. Have a good day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       His fingers halted above the ergonomic keyboard as her heels clacked away. “Bastard, bastard, bastard,” he muttered, rubbing palms over his face. To avoid a possibly awkward conversation, he had built his defenses and treated her with such unacceptable coldness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rude. He was so fucking rude. Nobody deserved that kind of treatment, especially her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Regardless of her current status involving Dorian Havilliard, Rowan needed to talk to her. That much was clear. He could not bury whatever it was between them six feet under the ground. The things she had to say might not be what he hoped for, but at least, he got to listen and understand. It wouldn’t be fun to hear that the kiss was just an unwanted spur of the moment decision; it would probably hurt him like an arrow through the shoulder. Still, he wanted everything to be clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       His chair nearly tipped to the tiled floor when he shot up. He barely gave a damn to any of his items toppling down. All he cared about was Aelin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Swerving through misaligned rows of desks and swivel chairs, he cursed at his idiocy. She wasn’t at her desk, and he didn’t even see the direction she went to. Trying the pantry, he burst through the door, jaw dropping to the ground. It wasn’t Aelin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       It was Lorcan and Elide with their arms around each other. Their faces were inches apart that it was clear he had intruded in the worst possible moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I’m sorry,” Rowan mumbled, “Please resume.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He closed the door, ignoring Lorcan calling his name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>       A dim and short hallway grabbed his attention. If she couldn’t be found on their floor, it was either she went down the elevator or she was in the women’s comfort room. With a sigh, he crept closer to the two doors adjacent to each other. Glass wall, instead of concrete, was installed in front of the comfort rooms, and it was a good thing he was high enough that nobody would see him sneaking inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan pushed the door ajar, peeking in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Rowan, what in the Wyrd are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He jumped at the voice behind him. It was Aelin with fists against her hips. One eyebrow was raised in question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I-I was looking for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       She barked a laugh, but a pained expression crossed her face. “You drive me crazy, Whitethorn. Why were you looking for me? Is not accepting my coffee inadequate? Maybe you needed to throw it in my face, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Gods, Aelin. No, of course not.” He was appalled that the thought crossed her mind. Did he thoroughly destroy his image in front of this woman? “I would like to apologize to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Her eyes narrowed. “Go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “As you said, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but that doesn’t excuse me to be so ill-mannered. I shouldn’t have behaved that way toward you. For that, I am deeply sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Her blue eyes—a stunning turquoise now that the sunlight hit her face—scrutinized him, dissecting him bit by bit. “Okay. Apology accepted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan’s mouth was slowly twisting into a smile when she turned around and started walking away. He quickly reached out to grab her wrist. “Wait. May I talk to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       She glanced at where their skin touched, and then back to his eyes. “Sorry. I need to start another round of edits for a chapter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Aelin, I really need to talk to you,” he pleaded. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Her face had shut him out, obviously not wanting to do anything with him, but her curiosity won. “Okay. Talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Not here.” He nervously looked around. It was hardly a private space for a serious conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Fine,” she said in surrender, flipping their hands in a swift move such that she was holding on to him now. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Several employees had started filing in, settling at their desks with still droopy eyes and hunger for another weekend. Still, Aelin dragged him around the area until they halted before a narrow corridor. Her golden hair was pulled up into a ponytail (to his dismay), and he watched it swish from side to side. She opened the door at one end for him and lifted one eyebrow at him, telling him to enter. He obeyed, moving his hand along the wall beside the door as he searched for the light switch. The single bulb sparked into life, blanketing the storage space in warm, orange light. When Aelin shut the door, she leaned against it and crossed her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>        “I reckon this place is secluded enough for you,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Right,” he replied meekly. The weight of her stare could swallow him whole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “So? I’m listening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan cleared his throat. Aelin was terrifying like this. Before, he wouldn’t hesitate to counter her attacks with a poison of his own, but he had an inkling that would lead to a raging reaction from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “My patience is running thin, Whitethorn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I wanted to talk about what happened last week,” he blurted. “In the elevator.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Her stance tightened with tension. “Shocking. It was clear enough, especially this morning, how you don’t want to do anything with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He shook his head. “No. That’s not it. I was just in a bad mood because of…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Of?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Doesn’t matter,” he finished. “How was your date with Dorian?” Rowan’s eyes widened into saucers as he completed the question. Stupid, uncontrollable mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Date? What date? We didn’t… How did you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I overhead the two of you by the elevator hallway,” he sighed. “I apologize for listening to such a personal conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Rowan, we-we didn’t go on a date nor are we going to one. I turned him down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He had been staring at the rough, bare ground, but his head snapped up when she said those words. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Aelin laughed hoarsely and ran a hand through the end of her ponytail. “You drive me absolutely crazy, Rowan Whitethorn. Let me ask you this. Why did you ask about my date with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Because I want to know if you went,” he whispered. “I didn’t want you to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Meeting his gaze, she shuffled toward him, and when they were close enough to touch, she rested her forehead on his shoulder. A deep sigh left her. “Dorian did ask me out in the hallway. We talked and I explained how I thought he was a nice guy and all, but I wasn’t interested in him. He took it well, you know. And he asked, ‘It’s Mr. Whitethorn, isn’t it?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Rowan straightened, his hands flexing on his sides. He didn’t know if he should hold her or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “And I said, ‘Yes. It’s always been him, but he doesn’t know.’” She slowly lifted her head to gaze upon him. Her lips turned up in a small and shy smile. So at odds with her usual demeanor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Always,” he repeated numbly. Could that be the reason why Dorian asked him about Aelin earlier? “But you were so mean to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       She gave out a breathy laugh. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> were so mean to each other,” she corrected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       His hands finally crept up to her waist, holding her firmly. “Right. I’m sorry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “It’s funny because I thought you hated me with passion that you’d never look at me the same way I look at you. So, I decided to tone down my bitchiness toward you,” she said. “I hoped maybe you’d eventually like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “But I like you.” He bent down to touch his lips against her temple. Aelin drew a sharp gasp, evoking thrill from him. “I like you.” He pressed another kiss to her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I like you.” Her eyelids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I like you.” Her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “I like you.” The corners of her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       And against her mouth, he whispered, “I like you, Galathynius.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Their lips met with growing passion. Her arms curled around his neck, pulling him closer. The relief brought by their closeness nearly tipped Rowan to the edge, much like free falling. And with Aelin, he had always been falling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       She moaned at the first contact of his probing tongue. They were dancing—their hands, their mouths, their emotions. Her fingers clutched at the hair by the nape of his neck, making him groan in return. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and nipped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Rascal,” he croaked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       She answered with a naughty giggle. “There’s more where that came from. I was told that my bite is bigger than my roar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “Prove it to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       Her hands moved from his neck, to his collarbones, and then down to his chest. Rowan’s hands traveled too, reaching her buttocks and giving it a squeeze. That seemed to get her going because she started grinding her lower body against his. A shot of pure pleasure pounded through him, momentarily closing his brain down. She let him take as much as she took, permitting him learn the exact layout of her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “As much as I don’t want to,” she breathed out, placing a palm above his heart. “We should stop. A cleaner might walk in on us. I really don’t want us to be tagged as the people who make out everywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He smoothed his thumb along her lower lip. “You’re right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       “And we shouldn’t keep doing this—the fight and then kiss part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       He nodded, passing her a smile. Maybe she was open to amendments about that. How about they get rid of the fight part and keep doing the kiss one?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       After fixing themselves to seem presentable outside, Aelin unlocked the door. However, before she could exit, she looked at him and said, “Watch out, Whitethorn. You like me now, but I’m going to make you fall in love with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       With that final statement, she slipped out while Rowan was left there, frozen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>       That was unnecessary because he was already in love with her. The deep and unending kind.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I would like to thank everyone who clicked the title and decided to read this story. Thank you for all the hits, kudos, comments, and bookmarks. I hope you enjoyed!</p><p>I will be uploading another chapter in a day or two. It's more of an extra chapter. Thanks, everyone! Have a great day!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Extra Chapter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's the last of it! I just wanted to show a bit more of Aelin in this story I have spun. Thank you again, everyone!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Eight months later</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aelin Galathynius had never been a morning person. She preferred to eat breakfast at the cafè near her office building, because they served her favorite waffles with drizzled chocolate on them.  She also hated getting up earlier than necessary just to do workouts, which was why she did evening exercises as her dog, Fleetfoot, scrutinized her while she flailed around. Normally, it would take ten alarm snoozes to successfully wrench her away from the comfort of her mattress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       But that was before she started dating Rowan Whitethorn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Her boyfriend was the morning sun’s best buddy. He was well-organized when it came to his routine—wake up, exercise, eat breakfast, and drive to work. Fortunately, his consistent practices had rubbed off on her, transforming her into a </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly</span>
  </em>
  <span> morning person. She still needed about five snoozes before getting up, though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan contributed a lot in changing her unhealthy habits, especially her addiction to sweets. In return, she taught him to have a more exciting social life. With the help of Fenrys, she managed to drag Rowan to bars, clubs, bowling alleys, and skating rinks. She now knew that her boyfriend was a sore loser and did not appreciate being laughed at by her and Fen. Elide and an unwilling Lorcan usually spent their Friday or Saturday nights with the trio. Lysandra and her cousin, Aedion, would’ve hung out with them if it weren’t for their newborn baby—Aelin’s first nephew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Last night, she and Rowan had gone on a romantic date before the eventful and busy week ahead. Besides, it wasn’t every week that they called Rita’s for a reservation and dressed up to the nines. She had patted herself for suggesting the latter, because Rowan cleaned up good, mouth watering good. The dark suit stretched over his chest and arms perfectly, and the pants simply showed the strong length of his legs. She had never been more enthralled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       The same could be said for Rowan because his stunning, green eyes had that hooded quality once he had glimpsed her in a tight, black dress with gold embellishments. He had pulled her close to him and whispered in detail what he would do to her as soon as they got home. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she had shivered at the palpable lust in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       They alternated their stay between their apartments during the weekend. Although, Aelin sticked around at Rowan’s house more often, perching on his couch with Fleetfoot and a bowl of popcorn. As she watched her favorite person be playfully attacked by her dog as he did push ups, she couldn’t help but fall in love with him all over again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Which was exactly how she felt right now as she studied his beautiful sleeping face. His silver hair was in disarray, and his full mouth had parted for breathing. A rare occasion it was that she managed to wake up before him and his alarm, especially on a Monday morning. It didn’t surprise her, though. After their expensive dinner, they had stopped by Aelin’s most frequented bar and indulged themselves in a drink or two. Or in Rowan’s case, four drinks. He was an uptight person, so she made it a life goal to alleviate the stress and tightness in his muscles by helping him loosen up. She loved seeing him do so. His carefree smiles never failed to make her heart clench. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Fleetfoot snored by the foot of the bed, eliciting a snort and a giggle from her. Because of the sound, her boyfriend twisted closer to her and glided his hand along one side of her naked torso. The soft caress brought forth a wave of sudden pleasure so strong that she shivered. His fingers moved up and down the line of her spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Buzzard,” she breathed. “You have to wake. We should get moving.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I have never been more awake.” His lips curved into a sleepy smile, his eyes still closed. “And I am moving.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He began thrusting the lower half of his body against her front. Aelin could feel the hard length of him through the thin blanket. Her blood instantly sizzled with need. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She barked a laugh. “I can see that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Rain check on that morning exercise. The alcohol’s still swirling in my head.” His hand crept to the nape of her neck and pulled her in for a searing kiss. “I don’t ever want to leave this bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Today’s the big day, remember?” she said, snuggling into his chest. She didn’t say it out loud, but she shared the same sentiments with him, especially when his chest was all bare and warm. “We don’t want Dorian bursting into the door and demanding why we aren’t at the office yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I still regret inviting him here for a game night. Who the fuck even suggested playing chess that time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “If I remember correctly, it was one of our friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Aelin fondly remembered the chaotic night. Fenrys had proposed they have a chess match in lieu of the chess master in their midst. As expected, Dorian won. But not without difficulty. To everyone’s surprise, Rowan was a really good chess player. The black-haired man taunted her boyfriend so much that the latter nearly overturned the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Gods, I’d much rather he stayed a client.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “He’s our friend now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> friend,” he corrected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She giggled. “Baby, don’t tell me you’re still jealous of him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Before the two of them had officially started dating, she was thrilled with the notion of Rowan Whitethorn getting jealous of the chess athlete. Dorian was a handsome young man with the prettiest blue eyes she had ever seen, but he had none of Rowan’s captivating grasp on her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       His eyes finally opened, startling pine green orbs boring into hers. “I’m not jealous.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She hummed against his mouth. “Sure you’re not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Aelin,” he said in warning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan didn’t get to finish whatever it was he was going to say because she had pulled herself up and straddled him, legs against his hips. His queen-size bed creaked under the quick change of weight. She shifted a bit, evoking a moan from him. They remained unclothed due to last night’s pleasurable… affairs. Their bodies touched at the perfect location, and her position made her feel more powerful and confident. The way Rowan’s gaze slid to her chest brought a satisfied grin to her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Her hand traced the line of his chiseled jaw. He was so beautiful that her heartbeat stuttered. It had been a long while since she realized the depth of her feelings. She had harbored a crush from the moment she set eyes on him. His calm stance and cold façade were what pulled her in, what intrigued her about him. However, it was the tenderness she felt with him that made her want to stay and hang on. It had been her best decision yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I’m just teasing you,” she whispered, fiddling with the hair beside his ear. “But I’m serious. We should get to the office early. We spearheaded this project, so it’s appropriate to be there the moment Dorian’s book is out in the market.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He sighed, and then squeezed her hips. “You did good on the project, Fireheart.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “So did you. I’m so proud of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Rowan sat up to press a chaste kiss on her lips. “You taste good. Are you sure we need to prepare already? We still have fifteen minutes to spare.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       And with him, it surely was time well spent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Buzzard, come on. Let’s go shower.” She got off him and began nudging his hand. “Oh, and remind me to pick up my weekend bag before you drop me off at my house tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Fireheart… Let’s move in together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       She focused on his face. No amount of hesitation and doubt were written on it. “Buzzard, are you sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       He nodded, lips curled up. “Yes. I mean, we still have a lot to figure out. Will we stay here or at your apartment, or should we just look for another home? All I know is I hate saying goodbye to you every time I drop you off at your house. I don’t ever want to say goodbye.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “Me, neither.” She cupped his cheeks and leaned her forehead against his. “I want this. I want to move in with you. I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       “I know. And I love you, too.” He kissed her once, and then twice. “Now, how about that bath.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Before she could utter a single word, he already had her in his arms, headed for the bathroom. She giggled against his neck, holding on tighter and soaking up all the happiness in the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>       Aelin was dead sure it would take them more than fifteen minutes to finish.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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